


Lockdown

by strititty



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Candy Dave, General tomfoolery, M/M, PQ Dirk, Pesterquest, Sibling Incest, The Homestuck Epilogues: Candy, Trans Dirk Strider, showering together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:09:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26304676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strititty/pseuds/strititty
Summary: The timeline's locked, and older Dave hasn't left yet. Maybe he won't ever leave, and you know what? Dirk's fine with that.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Dirk Strider
Comments: 9
Kudos: 48





	Lockdown

**Author's Note:**

> my stridercest shipping ass started writing this right after dirk's route came out in pq because of COURSE i did. i have some ideas for this, altho i dont know if ill manage to get thru to them. writing's hard, lads. it's real hard. for now, have striders with problems.

Shortly after everything goes green as fuck, you find yourself still sitting there on tippy top of the roof with your bro. Your fucking bro.

He looks different from the interviews, presumably because he’s from another timeline a whole universe or four away. He’s so much… scruffier. Definitely less groomed for the public eye. This isn’t a man that spent years building up a Hollywood empire and needed to keep goddamn impeccable track of his persona. 

He could also probably use a shower, but you’re not gonna tell him that.

“Man no fucking wonder we’re anti-water,” he says, feet dangling off the edge of the roof like you’ve done a thousand times and like you do right now, just to be near him. “I never saw this shit when I was playin’ the game. I heard about it but I never went here and actually sat in it. Real shit this is kinda horrifying.”

He points off toward a spot in the ocean. “There should be a fuckin’ Denny’s right there.”

“There is,” you say. “It’s kind of really fucking underwater right now. Thus: fuck water.”

“Fuck water,” he agrees, and bumps into your side. That’s a full broship bump. There’s a version of you that had this, huh. There’s a version of you that threw this away. You look down past your feet and think about how much you think about drowning. 

His sweetass hoodie is soft on your arm, but he’s not putting any weight on you. He’s just close enough that you can feel it, that you can feel the way he shifts when he breathes. He’s a real person and he’s here. You don’t know how much longer you will be. There’s no way you can keep this, right? Not indefinitely. He’s from another timeline entirely. 

You realize he keeps glancing at you sidelong as you realize you’re doing the same to him. Of course. Your mouth twitches upward and so does his. 

“Fuck, this is so surreal,” you say. 

“You’re telling me. Some flat fucker shows up, tells me they met me at Olive Garden, next thing you know I’m lookin’ at a baby version of my brother and we’re havin’ some remix of an old conversation.” He turns his head to look at you. You’re not the most schooled at human expressions, being that you are one of two people on the entire fucking planet, but you’re pretty sure he looks depressed. He’s still smiling a little, but you sure as shit know what depression feels like.

Yeah, you did that to him. “How did the OG conversation go?”

Dave makes a ‘ha’ sound that is probably a laugh. “Not so great. I basically unloaded all my shit on my Dirk and then he told me he kinda worshipped the ground I walked on and--aw fuck, you probably got that shit goin’ on right now too.”

“I’m struck utterly dumb here. There are stars in my eyes.” You have perfected the art of the deadpan. Your pan is so dead right now.

“Aw, c’mere, tiny Dirk.” He laughs again and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

Fuck, he’s so warm. You try not to freeze up like a fucking stooge again. It’s a lost cause, but he doesn’t immediately back off this time. You have a minute to get used to it. 

...He doesn’t smell the best, but he’s another human being. He’s your brother.

You hook your own arm around his middle, slowly, and lean into him, also slowly. His mouth pulls into a full smile and he squeezes you. “Forgot how cute we used to be,” he says, and reaches up to noogie you with his free hand.

That’s just not gonna fly. You swat it away with what you’re sure is such a Face and he laughs again, louder. Squishes you tighter. You get the feeling maybe he doesn’t want to let you go now. “Don’t do that. You’ll slice your fucking fingers off, and that would be a shit way to lose them.”

“Man, where did you even get this much hair gel? There’s no way old me just left all this lying around.”

“Fish can be repurposed for a wide variety of materials,” you inform him. He immediately stops trying to noogie you.

“Awww gross, dude, you’re kiddin’ me. You got fish guts in your hair right now? No way.”

You smirk at him. “You’ll never know, will you?”

Despite the nasty pseudo-knowledge bomb you just dropped, Dave continues not letting you go. “You’re so fuckin’ grody, man, I thought you showered twice a day or some shit.” Pause. “I guess if you’re usin’ fish guts as hair gel you’d have to shower that much. Dirk, cross my heart and swear to god if you’re tellin’ me the truth I’m gonna have to wash your fuckin’ sins out right now and I’ll stay here to make sure you never do it again.”

Wow. 

A flash of ‘he’ll stay here with you’ hits you like a lethal tumble off the rocketboard and you can’t help yourself. “The deaths of so many fish are quite literally on my head right now, I’m sorry to tell you.”

You’re a needy desperate tool and you’re not sure if he understands that. Still, he stands suddenly and pulls you away from the edge of the roof by the back of your shirt. “Goddamn absolutely disgusting,” he laughs as he tugs you down, pulls you through your apartment toward the bathroom. It hits you that he might actually intend to chuck you into the shower and you start to squirm away from him.

For reasons you literally cannot comprehend beyond him being older and taller than you, you can’t seem to get away from him. Maybe you’re not trying hard enough.

...You’re definitely not trying hard enough. You don’t want him to let go. That’s. Weird. That has to be weird.

Dave gets you into the bathroom, wheezing. “Dude, I’ma level with you, I did not expect to be able to drag you all this way.” He stops scrunching up your shirt, but his hand lingers for a minute. It falls away after he realizes it’s there. “Now we’re just in the bathroom like a couple of idiots about to get ready for prom or some shit, I dunno, I never had a prom.”

“Are you going to do my make-up? I think that’s a prerequisite for those sorts of movies.” You don’t want him to do your make-up. You don’t even fucking have any make-up.

“Naw, man, I ain’t got the skills. Seriously if your hair is full of dead animal I’m gonna need you to shower, though.” He pauses. Leans down. Sniffs himself. “...And then I’ma need to shower too, Christ, have I smelled like this the whole narrative shitshow? Shit’s mad embarrassin’, yo.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

“Aw, fuckballs.”

There’s a second where you’re both laughing, sort of, and then you’re both two idiots standing in the bathroom like you’re about to get ready for prom, except neither of you have dresses or make-up which, like, good. Only sexy schoolgirl outfits for the ironies. Nothing else. This is kind of getting away from you. Anyway. 

You’re both standing in the bathroom, kind of half-smiling, and then Dave rubs the back of his neck and starts toward the door because of course he’s not going to stay while you’re showering - and you don’t actually need a shower - but your mouth opens. “Dude, you don’t have to leave.”

He nearly trips and falls on his face. “What? I’m not gonna sit here and watch you shower, man, creepy.”

“It’s not that creepy. For all we know once we’re no longer in the same room we’re going to vanish from each other’s sight. You think I need a shower. You need a shower. The writing’s on the wall, Dave. Hell, we could just shower together.” 

AR is laughing to himself watching you crash and burn into a wall right now, you’re sure. A window hasn’t popped up on your shades, but he might just be stuttering in the face of your astronomical levels of stupidity. Processors across the world aren’t meant for fuck-ups of this intensity.

Dave stares at you with his mouth slightly open, eyebrows up, and you fidget. Not something you ever expected to do in the presence of other human beings, but today’s circumstances have been extenuating, what with the whole meeting people in meatspace for the first time thing. 

“...Dude,” he says, finally.

“Dude,” you echo, and decidedly do not sound nervous and uncertain. You have never been more sure of anything in your life. That’s you.

His brow furrows. “You sure that’s something you want? You’ve met all of two people in person and you wanna get naked with one of ‘em right now immediately? I mean also you’re fifteen and that’s pretty fucked up but let’s get through one issue at a time here.”

He’s right. Of course he’s right. And yet. 

“You’re my brother,” you say, like a pathetic loser.

Dave was already soft as pictures of cute kittens on the old Earth internet, but he crumples when you say that. “Man, Dirk, I--” He runs a hand through his hair. His expression runs through various kinds of tiny frowns and microexpressions your bro never made in his old interviews, but he finally settles on something… resigned, you think. “Yeah, I mean. Alright. Kiddie pool shower. Save water or something. Don’t even have to take our underwear off.”

He agreed.

He agreed?

Fuck, he said yes. Not exactly the way you were expecting him to - you weren’t expecting him to at all - but in a way that might work out better for you. Your tragic lack of certain anatomy hits you hard in the gut as Dave looks at you. He actually pulls his shades off and looks at you for a minute before he folds them up and puts them on the sink.

He starts shrugging out of his hoodie and it jumps you to action. There’s a certain maneuver you can do where you take off your shirt without disturbing your shades at all, but. Dave just did you the kindness of taking off his own, and he’s fingering the hem of his shirt and looking at you like he’s waiting, or embarrassed, or both. 

You tuck your shades in next to his and pull off your shirt. In some ways, you’ve been blessed: your chest is flat as a fucking washboard. There’s a little swell of fat there, but nothing that you can’t pretend is pecs from how absolutely jacked you can get sword fighting drones. It’s for the best. Anything more and you might be doing something stupid with ACE bandages.

Dave’s chest is about as scruffy as his jaw, with a trail under his navel that leads down into his pants. You realize your shades aren’t hiding your blatant interest when he goes to unbutton his jeans with an awkward noise that might be discomfort. Yeah. Yeah, that might be creepy after all. You don’t need to make this worse. 

Instead, you drop trou and step out of them, kick them to the side. He follows suit after a struggle with his hightops. 

“Yeah,” Dave says when you’re both down to fuck-all for clothing. He’s got cheap red briefs on. You’re wearing orange boxers. You can basically see his whole package hanging out in there and holy fuck he can still see you staring. He shifts from foot to foot, looking for all the world like this is the most uncomfortable moment of his life. “So. How bout that shower, mini Dirk?”

“Can do, bro.” Turning away from him to hit the water is a relief, because staring at your bro’s dick and considering the phrase ‘penis envy’ is not something you should be doing.

You make it hot, but not as hot as you usually go for, and step under the spray before you can think better of it. You should have thought better of this a thousand times over, but shit. It’s already happening. You’re already here.

Under the wet spray, you feel the familiar comfort of the beating of the water - fuck water, but not _this water_ \- and it lulls you. Your hair, stiff with gel, won’t get really damp until you start digging your hands in there, but there’s the pressing matter of… You turn and look at Dave.

He’s staring at you, but he averts his gaze and rubs the back of his neck after a half second.

You shuffle to the side to make some room.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. Okay. Cool. Two bros in the shower together. No big.” And then he steps in next to you and you are immediately over-fucking-whelmed. Dave’s got at least eight inches on you and that smacks you directly in the face with his near-nude proximity. Taller, slightly thicker, close and stinking like depression. The hair on your arms stands up like he’s activated your fight or flight response. You jolt a little when he speaks again. “So, uh, how bout that shampoo? Or the soap, or both. Tell me your soap ain’t made of fish guts too, Dirk, if it is all of this is for nothing and I’m gonna sue your whole ass.”

“As opposed to my half ass?” you finally manage, reaching for the shampoo to hand to him. You’ll never tell what it’s made out of. He doesn’t have to know.

“Shouldn’t half-ass things, bro, half-assing a legal suit is just asking for all sorts of fines and shit. Rezi’d rip me to shreds I ain’t even seen her in years. Back from the great unknown just for my shitty law jokes.” His mouth crooks up in a way that isn’t quite happy and he starts washing his hair. He shuts his eyes, because who washes their hair with their eyes open, and you are momentarily free to look at him without feeling so fucking terribly awkward about it.

...Nah. Nah, you still feel awkward, but looking the way the water runs across his skin is doing funny things to your stomach. His briefs are already soaked and the fabric clings to his dick. You can see everything.

Like a tool, you stare until you remember your definitely-not-fish guts-hair, and then you nab the shampoo and start lathering up. As always, it takes deep and concentrated effort to get all the gel out, and you realize you’re going to be in front of Dave with your natural hair for some amount of time that isn’t zero. You regret everything.

It’s not that your hair is awful. It’s just kind of awful. 

You successfully distract yourself from Dave in the shower for about five seconds. Then he brushes against you and you’re immediately reminded that he’s here, he’s taller than you, he’s warm, warm, warm. The depression stank is sliding away and you’re just. So close together. This shit is _so much._ Why did you suggest this.

“Move over, man, I gotta rinse off before this fish gut soap bleaches my scalp,” you say instead of audibly flipping your shit. Cool as ice. 

Dave blanches and shifts to the side. You slide against each other while you move, smooth and wet. “Goddammit, bro, I don’t even want to think about this. Why are you doing this to me, you colossal douchenozzle.” You wet your whole head again and let the soap slick down your body. “You had better just be fucking with me, I swear to god.”

Your mouth quirks up. “You’ll never know. Not even a little bit. The gulls will never tell my secrets.”

“Shit, the gulls, I should’ve thought about them. I can totally ask them. Feathery fucking assholes can’t be worse than the crows.”

“They can and will peck your eyes out because your shades are shiny, dude. Don’t bet on it.”

“No, no, crows did that shit too.” He laughs, a tiny huff of breath not unlike your own, because you are _brothers,_ Jesus shit. It’s only feasible that you laugh the same way, especially because Dave already knows you.

“All birds are dickwads, huh. That’s good to know if I ever meet another bird.”

Dave shrugs, still seeming amused and _still_ with that tinge of sadness he can’t seem to shake. “Hey, that friend of yours can zap through dubious canon, man, I think you’ll have plenty of other birds to see. Crow here, oriole there--maybe a fucking raven. I always wanted to see a raven, dude, they’re like bigger assholes.”

“Quoth the raven,” you start. 

He shoves his hand in your face. “Nevermore, bitch, I refuse to listen to that after Rose’s whole bullshit phase when she was twelve. Haha, god, can you imagine--”

You lick his hand because that’s what kid brothers do in movies and he smears it all over your face. You’re so lucky you’re already in the shower. Swatting at him is probably not a shower-safe activity, but he’s laughing again. 

“You fuckin’ twerp,” he accuses you, and honestly, that’s about right. You’re getting in a slappy fight with a guy in a shower. If twerpy isn’t an adequate descriptor for that you don’t know what is.

“I cannot possibly imagine being anything better,” you tell him, and shove your own hands into his face.

For all that this is kind of a clusterfuck and you regret everything, you also regret nothing.

It ends up being less awkward than you thought it would be by the end, when you’re both mostly clean and you can shimmy out of the shower. 

“Fuck,” Dave swears, standing there dripping wet and vehement about something. “Fuck shit dickballs hell.”

“What?”

_”I don’t have any more underwear,”_ he hisses, and you can’t help yourself. You start to snicker, and then you start to laugh. It’s not some boisterous Jake laugh because you’re not an island goober, but a little more force goes into than usual.

“This is your own damn fault,” you tell him through huffs and chuckles. 

It’s not. It’s not his fault. It’s yours, for making him shower with you, but fuck. It’s so funny that you forget to hate yourself for one second.


End file.
